Mistrust...
(bgun Tuesday 30th July at 3.30am..)
Was I brought up to respect the Law? That if you were bad, you'd go to jail? I'd be lying if I said I could remember details from that long ago, but I've always loved a uniform, if that counts for anything...
Sadly, that respect had died a little once I'd discovered that Johan Stolz had hung me out to dry... He was my idea of a really good cop, and I'd gone to him for help once I'd figured out that Nayager and Balliram had breached our privacy... Only now do I see that he couldn't have helped me, even if he'd wanted to, and besides, he'd already taken early retirement by the time I'd called on him...
Back then, retirement or not, he was an authority figure, and as such I'd foolishly thought he'd be able to get those two thugs off my back... Boy, was I sadly mistaken...
Martin Marais and Manuel Correia - Both charming gentlemen in their own right, had also backed away from me with alacrity, and these were all people I'd regarded as good cops, so you'll appreciate my confusion. Right now I wouldn't be a cop for all the tea in China, for they need to be able to trust their colleagues 100%, and that's no longer viable...
How many of them know the full impact of Sutcliffe's Smart City system, and how many have been given the vaguest outline of how it works? I guess those that are being kept in the dark deliberately far outweigh those in the know...
I'd been watching the Carte Blanche re-run yesterday, where Devi had visited the Metro Police Headquarters in Pretoria... She'd been standing outside the building holding forth when she'd said that all the bribery and corruption was taking place while just down the road the Hawks had their headquarters... Interesting.. Is Visagie Street the home of all the different Units, or is it just Metro and Hawks? Why? That statement I'd signed for Captain Patsa on Friday had said she was based in Visagie Street/Road, although Organised Crime might well be what they refer to, as opposed to saying they're from the Hawks...
Is Mo Shaik's friend Anwar Dramat still the head of that body? Surely, via the Muslim network, never mind Interpol, he'd have a pretty good idea where the White Widow terrorist was hanging out? What was the connection between that text I'd had the day before, from the Microwave Boffin? The one that had said there were lots of heavily-armed policemen at the Madressa in Candella Road? A Madressa I didn't even know existed? Did such a raid really take place, and if so where, and who were they looking for?
Then you get someone like Chief Clark from the Westville Station, who's been with the Force forever, and holds forth daily on Facebook with commonsense and logic.. A uniform you'd think you could trust implicitly.. Why? Because he's of the pale variety? Because he's their Comms. Officer? Under the circumstances, the latter isn't exactly a plus, is it Lazzie? The only thing I can know for sure about Stephen is the fact that he's fully aware of the quantum laser surveillance technology, and it's ability to access any home across the city, to thieve private information...
Hell, he's forfeited one knee to the Cause already, and he must know that he'll likely lose the other one soon enough, plus the fact that he's young and those ops will have to be re-done down the line, as he ages...
None of which appears to have dampened his enthusiasm for the Project at all... God, but it's harsh, hey? Once you're in a position to step back and see the enormity of what's happening, everything else pales by comparison.... The ease with which dissenters may now be dealt with, using the wireless weaponry, is the single most horrific aspect of this fantabulously advanced technology, and whether it's that knowledge, or his proximity to that damned wireless mast, that causes his irritation, it's impossible to say..
Why was the young Opposition Councillor so upset the other day? Did he somehow get wind of the surveillance operation and how it's being used by the DA to oust the Ruling Party? Was he appalled and furious to find he'd been sent into Sydenham cold-turkey, and unarmed with this information? Man, I'd tried to warn him, had I not? But you only have to listen to my babbling for five minutes to know I never stood a chance of catching his attention...
Has he forgotten the night when he'd had a Meeting to attend, and his mum's electric gates had suddenly jammed? I'd tried at the time to point out how simple that mischief had been to achieve by the Crooks controlling that powerfeed, but again, I've no credibility whatsoever...
Even if our Shadow Minister of Police had spent hours smoothing his ruffled feathers, it's unlikely he'll have grasped the full horrific import of the quantum laser technology, and just what it can do... Who's to say how you'll react when it finally sinks in that someone nearby, who you don't know from Adam, has been watching and listening to you, and recording your every action, at least since you became a Councillor, if not before? Will you buy your Superior's assurances that there are simply not enough Monitors available to set up a 24-hour surveillance on one single DA Councillor? Rubbish. By now there'll be a sizable army of civilian recruits in that area, all of whom will have been issued with fake security clearances, allowing them to access the powerlines that criss-cross the Councillor's residential area...
His own lines will have been of particular interest to Michael Barnabas, being as how his Ward includes great chunks of what our Earl regards as his personal fiefdom.... Would the young man allow himself to be persuaded that there isn't footage of his most intimate moments doing the rounds out there, or will he come to accept that he too, like me, is the star of his very own Truman Show? Will he come to realise that sudden lengthy bouts of explosive sneezing or dry hacking can now be engineered over his powerlines in conjunction with the Sentech/Petruccione computerised quantum laser program? Will he learn to recognise the weird out-of-the-blue jabs to his person as wireless attacks, and most of all, will he start to address his Tormentors personally, acknowledging their presence?
Telling them out loud to FOAD could have immediate and painful consequences, but that would depend on the character behind the controls at the time... Have the Planners learned anything over the eight years of my own entrapment? Have they learned that it's not a good idea to assign just one Controller to an individual, for fear some sort of weird bond may occur? Be it hatred or simply familiarity? In our case we guinea pigs were left to the sole cruel ministrations of one Collin P. Balliram, with dire results for all of us...
It's only been within the last couple of years that it appears it was deemed prudent to share the responsibility for our monitoring between some of the neighbouring recruits, and then only in a lame attempt to diffuse Balliram's guilt..
Once it was seen that our Area Controller had in fact, no conscience whatsoever, and that he was above average in employing the wireless weaponry, he'd been permitted to jump the fence/cross the floor and join the so-called Good Guys team, which includes the likes of several of the DA's finest.. *waves to Martin and Warwick.... It's not your business if the Planners see fit to hiring criminals to work alongside of you? And just when did your own moral integrity leave the building? Ag, no worries, that's just another of my incessant rhetorical questions that needs no answering...
In the light (!) of my own experiences as a guinea-pig/plaything for the Monstrous, may I presume to continue warning you of the signs to look out for, telling you that YOUR powerlines have been accessed, and that you're the star of your own show?
There's little I don't know about how the wireless weaponry can be used against you, though of course on the technical side I'm as dumb as I ever was... Why do I feel that a geo-magnetic field is somehow included in these attacks, when I don't even know what that is? I guess I saw that word in some article or other recently, and I fell on it because it could possibly relate to the Abdominal Frequency and the strange effect it has on me...
The sceptics among you will mutter prolapse, that's for sure... However, if my Controller were honest (he isn't) he would have to admit that for the moment at least my pelvic floor muscles are freaking amazing for my age, and that given half a chance I could............. Well, never mind what I could do, let's just say that at this point they're all in good working order, and leave it at that... The attacks on my nethers are on the increase, and very few of them involve the head-scrambling delights of the initial forays any longer...
Last night for instance, as I'd sat curled up in my TV chair, I'd endured both uncomfortable levels of period pains (at 67 mind you), and the dreaded Backfire frequency...
The morning before, I'd been running my bath, and had found a wall of the Backfire frequency waiting for me, so I'd bumbled about and at the last minute I'd fetched the Panasonic, and in all but two of the more than dozen pictures I'd taken, I caught all manner of spheres in the bathroom.. Small wonder the Backfire frequency was at those extreme levels... Is that how it's to be from now on? Have Balliram's Handlers whispered to him to step up the assaults, or is he acting as independently as ever?
What do they hope to gain by this?
That I continue to serve as a warning to those who might otherwise dare to speak out against this appalling country-wide violation of the right to privacy and good health?
If I've caused so much as one person to look askance at their geyser's recent bad behaviour, or at the river of water running daily down their local Station's driveway, or at the sudden loud click of a walljack when it's not being used, I'll continue to tell myself I can endure the pain, although my eyes have taken to leaking a great deal lately...
Serves me right? I'm inclined to believe you, but hey, it looks as if this Duracell Bunny is due to chatter on, right up until her batteries are drained for good....
Peace...
---oOo---
Tuesday 30th July 2013 at 10.31am.
